


Superblood

by verucasalt123



Category: Supernatural, True Blood
Genre: Crossover, Explicit Sexual Content, First Meetings, First Time, M/M, One Night Stands, Supernatural Reverse Big Bang Challenge 2011, Unrequited Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 20:31:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8682370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verucasalt123/pseuds/verucasalt123
Summary: The Winchesters travel to Bon Temps.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just unearthed this one from the very beginning of my fanfic writing. Art by LJ user 79chevyimpala.

[](http://pics.livejournal.com/verucasalt123/pic/0001d5f6/)

 

The seemingly endless expanse of I-20 spread out before the Winchesters as they headed west. For the past few months, every hunt they’d been on, every break they’d taken in an establishment frequented by hunters, no one had been able to stop talking about Bon Temps, Louisiana. Rumors about shifters, werewolves, fairies (Dean was _not_ afraid of fairies, thank you so very much), and vampires abounded. It was like this town was supposed to be a haven for the supernatural. So obviously, there was no other place for Sam and Dean to move toward as soon as they had no other pressing matters in the forefront. 

 

The vampire stories had no unexpected effect on them. Since “the big reveal”, vamps coming out of the closet, so to speak, hunters had learned that they’d been wrong on many counts concerning this particular species. It seemed that the so-called vamps they’d encountered in the past were closer to humans who’d been stricken with a supernatural affliction, some kind of infection. Vampires, in reality (and to anyone _except_ hunters, that was a crazy phrase in itself) were not weakened by sunlight, they were immolated by it immediately. Once synthetic blood had been invented to give them the sustenance they needed, many of them were relieved at no longer having to live in the shadows, surviving on murder. 

 

This little town in the middle of nowhere, Louisiana was like a magnet for so many other supernatural creatures, though. Ghosts and shapeshifters, especially. Shifters who could change into any animal they chose to, and those who were designed to be specific animals – birds, dogs, hell, even fucking _panthers_ , if the word on the street was anywhere near the truth. Werewolves were allegedly close, but not common in the small town. 

 

Honestly, Sam and Dean didn’t head in that direction to hunt, specifically. Obviously they would if they needed to, but everything they’d heard seemed to point toward a strange picture of these creatures and the humans living there co-existing with a surprisingly small amount of tension. That, truth be told, was what attracted the Winchesters to the area. Not for a hunt, but to see what was happening there. Sometimes their natural curiosity got the better of them, and they just needed to put their eyes on things they’d heard about, see for themselves whether or not they were true. 

 

This tendency is what found them guiding the Impala south off of I-20 toward Bon Temps on a crisp fall day that would have felt like the dead of winter had they been back at Bobby’s place in Sioux Falls. 

 

Their research had revealed that there was really just one place in town for them to stop before they found a room for the night: a restaurant/bar/all-around local hangout called Merlotte’s. As they walked in, the brothers felt several sets of eyes trained directly on them. Though they might be tentatively accepting of the supernatural creatures who lived among them, it was still a town small enough to know strangers when they showed up. It was easy, after all their years of observing their surroundings, to know the questions and opinions on the patrons’ minds. Who were these two boys? What are they up to? What are those men doing here? They look like trouble. Suspicious. Ooooh, that one’s pretty.

 

Sam and Dean took a seat in a booth and were immediately greeted by a petite blonde waitress who seemed to be taking in more than just their orders for bottled beer and sandwiches. She looked very young, but her eyes told a different story. Even Dean’s hundred-watt light-bulb grin had no effect on her demeanor, which was pleasant but professional. She walked away to hand their orders over to an older, but still hot red-haired woman behind the bar and a black man wearing eyeshadow and false lashes in the open kitchen. 

 

These really were more open-minded people than they were used to encountering in small southern towns.

 

After a few moments, Sam noticed their waitress disappear with an exceptionally pale dark-haired man, and the redhead who had been behind the bar brought them their food and drinks. 

 

“Y’all just passin’ through?” she asked.

 

Dean hauled out this girl-slaying grin again. “Thought we’d see the sights here in this pretty little town”, he paused, reading her name tag, “ _Arlene_. Got any suggestions?”

 

Arlene looked a little wary at first, but said they had a nice civil war museum there and scribbled down the address on the back of one of her order pads. “If y’all are the outdoorsy types, there’s camping and fishing, too.” Then she hurried away, looking anxiously toward the door through which their first waitress had slipped out with the man they both assumed was her vampire boyfriend. 

 

Over beers and bar food, a plan was formulated. They decided to go back to their motel for some rest, then spend the next day exploring the town, talking to as many locals as possible, seeing how willing the good folks of Bon Temps were to talk about their supernatural neighbors and interactions. But after that, as at got to be nighttime, they were going to separate. Dean, not surprisingly, was going to take the car and head to a bar not far away, owned and operated by vamps and frequented by humans who enjoyed their company. Sam could make his way on foot from their hotel back to Merlotte’s and chat up some locals over a few friendly games of pool. Emphasis on _friendly_ , they didn’t need the money or the trouble that could result from hustling, and Sam had the kind of open and sincere look that could so very easily coax information about things the residents of the small town might not always be so enthusiastic about sharing with strangers. With their plan in place, they finished their beers and left the bar to return to their motel.

 

With great surprise, the next day, Sam and Dean had a nice conversation on a park bench with an elderly woman about a handsome and charming vampire who’d come to speak at a Civil War function and share some of his experiences as a Confederate soldier. They talked to a sheriff who grumbled about how this was just the way things were now, no sense in anyone _getting themselves into a tizzy_ over it. 

 

And, as exceptions make the rule, they ran into one young woman who said if every vamp on the planet walked directly into the sun that very minute, it wouldn’t be soon enough for her.

 

It really was a nice little town, the kind Sam could imagine settling down in if he ever settled down. Not that Dean would ever live in that kind of climate. But hell, it wasn’t like they were going to get old and die still living together in random motels, right?

 

Both brothers turned on the GPS on their phones just in case there was any trouble. Dean seemed a bit anxious, but Sam was fairly calm. There was something about the place that just eased his mind, which was more than a little insane considering that they were pretty much surrounded by non-humans.

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Dean took the turnoff toward Shreveport, heading to ( **how fucking lame** ) Fangtasia, the vamp bar he was planning to check out. His fingers drummed out a steady beat on his baby’s steering wheel during the twenty-mile drive. Part of his anxiety was due to the fact that he’d learned he’d been wrong about vampire lore for a long time. His _father_ had been wrong. What if he got into some kind of scuffle and couldn’t get himself out? He felt a bit more secure, though, with the stakes secured by leather straps under the sleeves of his jacket. He knew now that a wooden stake really could kill a vampire, even if he’d incorrectly thought before that direct sunlight didn’t do the trick. Don’t ever let anyone tell him that his time spent watching reruns of Buffy and Angel never taught him anything. On second thought, don’t ever let anyone say **a single fucking word** about his time spent watching reruns of Buffy and Angel. At all. Ever.

 

The bouncers at the front door, humans, barely gave him a second glance as he let himself in. Kind of looked like a regular bar. Hotter chicks than he was used to, and more people sporting spectacular bite marks on their necks, but there was music, and a dance floor, and a goth looking bartender serving up TrueBlood and booze in equal measure. He ordered a beer and took in his surroundings. After looking around for a few minutes, though, he saw it. An elevated chair toward the back of the main room, occupied by (and where the fuck did that thought even come from) the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. Tall, blonde, pale, commanding, and his eyes trained directly on Dean. He’d only taken one sip of his beer when he noticed _this_ , specifically, the hand reached out toward him, _beckoning_. There had never been a time in his life, other than protecting Sam, when he’d felt more instinctively compelled to move. Still, he had enough control to bring his bottle of Miller with him as he walked toward the man who’d just summarily dismissed a severe-looking female vamp from his side.

 

The man spoke, no trace of any kind of accent, southern or otherwise. “Hunter.” It wasn’t a question. His voice was much more quiet and even than Dean expected.

 

Dean took a long pull on his beer and answered, to his surprise, “Yes.”

 

“I’m Eric. I own this place. Have you come to kill me?” he asked, a smirk on his lips. 

 

“Just looking around. Doesn’t seem like there’s any reason for me to hunt anything here. Yet.”

 

Eric closed his eyes as he listened to Dean speak, then opened them and leveled his gaze at Dean. “Nebraska? Iowa, maybe?”

 

“Kansas.” Dean finished his beer in another long gulp, and found the empty bottle removed from his hand by a slender young girl who was there and gone almost before he could see her.

 

“You’ve forgotten your manners, Kansas,” replied the vampire, an expectant and rather impatient look in his eyes. 

 

“Dean. Good to, uh, meet you, Eric. Nice place you’ve got here.”

 

“I provide a service to the community. Vamps like to feed, humans like to volunteer themselves, everyone wants to drink and dance. It’s all quite _civilized_.”

 

“Yeah,” Dean responded, surprising even himself with the tone of the conversation. “I can see that.”

 

“So, you didn’t come here to hunt, but you’ve got wooden stakes under your jacket. Kind of a mixed message, Dean.”

 

Dean gathered a bit of bravado and replied, “Can’t hurt to be prepared, right?”

 

“I think we could learn a little from each other, hunter. Care to make this conversation a bit more private?”

 

Eric’s look was inquisitive, amused and tinged with lust. Dean readily agreed, to his own shock, and the two of them moved quickly from the bar to an office one floor down. It was sparsely furnished but comfortable enough for the two of them to sit and talk. A cooler with several more bottles of Dean’s brand of beer was sitting on the metal table in the room before they even got there. Now that’s what you call service, he thought, as he turned to look back at the vampire whose company he’d found he didn’t mind so much.

 

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Sam ambled back into Merlotte’s that night after Dean had left, finding a much busier crowd than he’d seen at the dinner hour the night before. The pool tables were all in use, and the waitresses were harried, trying to get everyone their beers and burgers in a reasonable amount of time. He sat at the bar and felt a presence stronger than he was used to. When he turned to his left, he saw the pretty blonde girl from yesterday, looking just as serious as she had before. That’s when it hit him. Psychic. Maybe. She had to be a psychic, or something like it. He could feel it. His own powers, which he generally tried to ignore, were being pulled on, examined by this woman. 

 

When she spoke, there was nothing young and charming in the stern sound of her distinctly southern accent. Her eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms, raising her chin defiantly.

 

“Ain’t nothin’ here for you to _hunt_. I think you’re just curious, and that’s fine, but don’t you go around makin’ trouble. Things are right peaceful here most of the time, no use in stirrin’ anything up, you got that?” Sam was surprised at the intimidation he felt at her words, and was immediately put in mind of Missouri. He vaguely wondered if the waitress might have a wooden spoon in her back pocket.

 

“You’re right, ma’am, I’m not here to start trouble. Just curious, like you said. I’m Sam,” he replied, holding out his hand. The woman took his hand but instead of shaking it, she just kept looking at him expectantly, eyebrows raised. He got it in just a second. “Uh, sorry, Winchester. Sam Winchester, ma’am.” This girl’s tone and glare would have had John Winchester falling in line, there was no doubt about that.

 

“Sookie Stackhouse, nice to meet you, Sam.” And Good Lord, Sam had met a whole lot of folks in his line of work, but never anyone named Sookie, that was for damn sure.

 

“You from here, Miss Stackhouse?”

 

“Born and raised here, and please just call me Sookie. Yeah, that’s my name, it’s not a nickname or anything, and yeah, I do **know** what you’re thinking. You’re not Southern, are you? Moved around a lot, I can tell, you already knew I could tell, don’t give me the surprised look. Your voice, though…”

 

“My parents and my brother, they’re from Kansas. I guess I kind of am, too.”

 

She seemed to soften a bit, then shot him a look he couldn’t quite get a handle on. “Can I get you something, _Sam Winchester the Vampire Slayer_?” she responded, a twinkle in her eyes and a sly grin forming on her pretty lips.

 

He shook off what he figured was probably a good-natured joke and not an actual insult. “Bottle of Michelob, if you wouldn’t mind?”

 

“I’m a waitress, I don’t mind bringing you a beer”, she replied, walking away. 

 

Sam grinned and turned his attention back to the pool tables. He caught little snippets of conversation, mostly about local events, the high school football game coming up, a meth raid in a nearby town, some murmurs about _vamps_ and _fangers_. 

 

When he got his beer, it wasn’t Sookie who handed it to him. 

 

“Hey there, Sam Merlotte, this is my place. Sookie told me you were passing through with your brother. I’m a bit new here myself. Anything I can do for you?”

 

As automatic as it had been before, he held out his hand in introduction. “Sam Winchester. And yeah, we’re just a little curious. Lots of stories circulating about this town.”

 

“Stories from hunters? Like yourself?”

 

“Look, man, we didn’t come here to hunt.” There was something about this guy. He wasn’t a psychic and sure as hell wasn’t a vampire, but there was _something_ …

 

“Hey, it’s all right. People want to see how easy it is for vamps and other…”, he cut himself off there, “other people to live in the same town peacefully, I’m happy to have someone spread the word. Not every supernatural being ought to be sentenced to death automatically.”

 

“Yeah, I can see that”, replied Sam, still fairly certain this guy might be supernatural himself. He put himself out there and asked, not sure where it would lead, “Word is there’s werewolves around here, too. Know anything about that?”

 

“Maybe you ought to go on over to the pool tables, shoot a few rounds with Alcide,”, he replied, gesturing toward a large, dark man near the back of the bar. “He might know a little more about that that I would.” He left Sam’s beer on the counter and walked away, turning just for a moment to add in a “Nice to meet you” over his shoulder.

///////////////////////////

 

Back in Shreveport, Dean was downing another beer and feeling a little uncomfortable about how easy it was to sit down and share a drink with a vampire. Not that the vampire was drinking a Miller.

 

“So, you came here to get information, Kansas?”

 

“Dean.”

 

“So, you came here to get information, Dean”, Eric replied evenly. 

 

“I guess. I mean, I just wanted to see for myself, the things people were saying about this place.”

 

“You’re not talking about _my_ place. Or Shreveport. You’re talking about Bon Temps.”

 

“Yeah. My brother’s there. I thought coming here might be useful with the whole gathering of information thing, you know, it’s close, and…” Fuck, when did he ever find himself at a loss for words? Eric was getting closer to him, physically, and how the hell did he do that, when Dean couldn’t see his chair move? Clearly, it had moved. 

 

Eric laughed. “He’s at Merlotte’s? No doubt he’s met Sookie by now. That ought to be a story for him to tell you tomorrow.”

 

“Tomorrow?” Dean hadn’t exactly planned on spending the whole freaking night in this bar. 

 

“There are lots of things I could tell you. Show you. But not in an hour. First, let’s do this.” Before Dean even knew what was happening, he was divested of his jacket and his wooden stakes. “I’m no threat to you, I have no reason to kill you and I certainly have no intention of ever turning anyone else _ever again_ , honestly, it’s just too much responsibility.”

 

Dean, shaking off his shock at having his weapons and a piece of clothing removed from him without even seeing it happen, caught onto the last part of Eric’s statement.

 

“Responsibility? You mean, if you turn someone, you’re supposed to be like their parent or something?”

 

“Or something. It’s a pain in the ass, honestly, and I have no interest in repeating that particular action anytime soon. I find you…intriguing. And attractive. I’d like to spend some time with you.” 

 

OK, this was a bit much. Dean held his composure as much as he could, aware that he was physically outmatched by this creature by leaps and bounds. “Dude, are you gay? There are **gay vampires**?”

 

Eric responded with full-on laughter, throwing his head back and causing his hair to fall into his eyes. “Hunter, I’m more than a thousand years old. You think I haven’t sampled everything that’s on offer by now? And just so you know, boy, if you think I don’t feel or smell or see your lust, you are sadly mistaken. I’m sorry you’ve been so misinformed about my species, but we’ve got a chance now to correct those inaccuracies.”

 

The hair in the eyes, that must have been what had done it. As Eric continued to move in closer, Dean was instantly reminded of Sam, who was constantly shaking his long bangs from his forehead. This guy was tall, too, as tall as Sam for sure, and lean, strong, all graceful movements and eyes that pierced into your subconscious. 

 

He was consumed by desire, suddenly wanting to be intimate with a man (a vampire/man, no less) for the first time in his life, and it was wrong, _wrong_ to be thinking of Sam when he was looking at someone he felt a this kind of attraction to. The effort he’d put in to tamping down the sexual attraction he had for his brother felt like it was starting to unravel, and he wasn’t prepared for that right now. But he’d let his brain process the fact that there were similarities later (or maybe he wouldn’t, if he could help it). Right now, Eric was in Dean’s space, and Dean didn’t even for a second flinch away from his touch. 

 

////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

“Alcide?,” Sam asked, with a bit of trepidation as he approached the well-built, dark haired man at the farthest pool table from the bar.

 

“Who’s askin’?” was the response he got, and Sam guessed he shouldn’t have expected anything else. 

 

“Sorry sir, I was talking with Mr. Merlotte over there and he said I should come talk to you if I had questions about, uh, some of the supernatural lore associated with this town.” Nervously, he added, “Weres, specifically”, fighting the urge to look at the floor. 

 

“Mm-hmm. Fucking Merlotte. Spotlight off him, on me. Typical. Fucking shifter.”

 

“Shifter?,” asked Sam, not really sure what he’d heard. 

 

“Whatever, man. You know my name, I don’t know yours.” There was a familiar ring to the words, the tone…Sam wasn’t sure exactly what it was.

 

“Sam. Just visiting.”

 

“And curious…” Alcide took a moment to study him, and made his conclusion, as it seemed everyone in this fucking town did almost immediately. “Hunter.”

 

Feeling like a broken record, Sam said again, “I’m not here to hunt. Just here to see what’s happening. I have to tell you, though, I am a hunter and the first time I had to stitch up my brother’s arm, it was because he’d been clawed by a werewolf. So yeah, I’m curious about werewolves and humans living in relative peace with each other, if that’s really what’s happening around here.” For some reason, this guy wasn’t as intimidating as the 100-pound blonde waitress had seemed, and Sam found no reason to keep the warning from his voice.

 

Alcide sighed and set down his pool cue. “Vamps may have come out into the spotlight, of their own volition, but weres and other types of shifters haven’t made the same decision. You already know about us, though, so there’s no use puttin’ up a pretense, I guess. Some of us were born like this, some of us got turned, none of us asked for it. You wanna know more, I suggest we move this conversation away from the pool table.”

 

“Sure, you want to sit at the bar?” Sam asked, draining the last of his beer and setting the bottle down. 

 

“More _away_ than that,” Alcide replied, looking Sam up and down, smiling and giving him a look that clicked into place along with the tone that he thought he’d recognized earlier. Dean. This man sounded like Dean. Reminded him of Dean. He was strong-muscled, forward, and sexy as a motherfucker. Wait. Dean wasn’t _sexy as a motherfucker_ , at least as much as Sam had ever let himself think for more than a minute or two at a time, when he could help it. Fuck. Whatever. Later. He’s been telling himself he’d think about that shit later for a good long while now. So he turned his attention back to the conversation at hand.

 

“Uh, I’m staying up the road at…”

 

“There’s only one motel in this town, hunter, and I know where it is. Let’s go if you want to go.”

 

Sam wanted to go.

 

///////////////////////////////////////

 

Dean was moving into what was sure to be the cold kiss of this blond vampire as his brain was shouting at him to **stop** and his body was telling his brain to shut its stupid fucking hole. 

 

“You want to know what it feels like?”, Eric asked as he leaned back in his chair, letting Dean take the lead just for a moment. Dean moved forward, hovering over Eric, their lips inches apart, finding no reason not to move forward. He didn’t move for a moment, though, just taking in the sight of the vampire remaining still and patient, waiting to see what he would do. 

 

Dean responded with no words, closing the tiny distance between his mouth and Eric’s, eagerly seeking entrance. No disappointment there, as Eric opened up for him and their tongues fought a moment for dominance until Eric’s patience had reached its limit. 

 

Removing Dean’s clothing and his own in mere seconds (Jesus, this guy moved like a fucking blur, like a movie on fast-forward, another vampire mystery revealed), the two of them were out of their chairs, standing for a moment, and Dean again was _so inappropriately_ reminded of his brother as he was being held against the cold metal desk by someone larger, taller, stronger, with hair in his eyes and looking like he was a few years younger than Dean. _Stop thinking about Sam, you dumbass._

 

Both of them let their hands roam freely over each other’s bodies, finding each other’s cocks before more than a few minutes passed. Eric felt cold, physically, but Dean barely noticed it as they were stroking each other. 

 

Eric moved his hand to the right, producing a small bottle of lube from a drawer in the metal desk. “What do you think, Kansas?” He paused a moment, gave another sly little half-grin, “Sorry. What do you think, _Dean_? You want to fuck me? Or you want me to fuck you?

 

God’s honest truth, Dean had no clue what the answer to that question was.

 

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Sam and Alcide were back at the motel, sipping on beers and trading stories over the little table in the front of the room. Never in a million years did Sam think he’d gain this much information about werewolves and other shapeshifters in just one night. At the same time, he’d also never guessed he’d ever have looked at a man he barely knew (a man that in some ways reminded him of his own brother) and find himself wanting to be sexually intimate with the guy. Sam wasn’t gay, he’d never had any same-sex experiences other than drunken college fumbling, which hadn’t been satisfying _at all_. Sure, he secretly kept lube on hand because he liked to finger himself when he was getting off alone (not thinking about Dean. Ever.), but that didn’t mean anything. Right? 

 

But this man…Sam wanted him. And he knew Alcide wanted him, too, he’d known it since before they’d left the bar and if Sam hadn’t been willing to follow through, he never would have brought him back to the motel in the first place. 

 

As the conversation fizzled and finally died out completely, they found themselves moving toward each other, Alcide pulling his t-shirt over his head and discarding it on the floor, prompting Sam to do the same with his two shirts. Alcide grabbed onto the back of Sam’s hair and pulled him into a rough kiss, all clashing of tongues and teeth and lips then, finally backing away for both of them to take much-needed breaths.

 

“Bed?” Sam asked, but didn’t really ask, because he already knew the answer. 

 

Alcide crawled on top of him, making quick work of his own pants as well as Sam’s, leaving both of them naked and grinding against each other, erections slicked with pre-come. 

 

Another question, this time asked by Alcide. “Lube?” Sam moved slightly, his hand slipping into the side pocket of his duffle and producing his secret tube of Astroglide, handing it over without hesitation. 

 

Sam had no idea how he knew what to do right then, but he instinctively moved backward on the bed and spread his legs. Alcide teased him with a hand and his tongue on Sam’s cock, but quickly moved on to his slicking up his fingers and pressing against Sam’s hole, lightly at first, then more insistently, finally breaching the muscle and sliding inside. 

 

And holy **fuck**. It kind of hurt, more than when he did it alone, and made him feel something he didn’t want to feel while he was naked and in bed with someone, but damn…after a minute it was good, and he was pushing back onto Alcide’s finger. That’s probably why Sam felt a second finger penetrate him, and yeah, that more than kind of hurt, even with the lube. He’d deny the whine that escaped his lips until his dying day. He’d never gotten any farther than experimenting with just one finger inside himself before.

 

“Too much, Sam? You want me to stop?”

 

And fuck if the answer wasn’t “No, God, please don’t stop.”

 

So there was no stopping. Alcide teased and prepped him, kissing and having his nipples tweaked and his cock stroked until he was ready for more. OK, so maybe he wasn’t just ready. He was begging. “Please. Fuck me, Alcide, fuck me, I want you, please”, Sam trailed off, whining and moaning. Within just a moment, he felt a slicked cock lining up against his hole. 

 

“You sure, Sam? I get the feeling this might be your first time.”

 

“Yeah. I mean, y-eah, it’s my first time and yeah I’m sure, just do it,” he responded, doing his best to keep the _I’m scared to death_ out of his voice. 

 

Alcide leaned over him, spreading Sam’s legs wider, and looking down on him with **that look** , the one that he’d seen his brother direct at countless women but never at him, he was sure, probably, not ever at him. Anytime he saw it, he figured he was imagining things, or maybe Dean was just thinking of something else at the time. He’d accepted long ago that there was no way Dean would reciprocate his feelings.

 

He quickly shook off those thoughts and filed them away into the “do not think of that again ever, or for as long as I possibly can help it” section of his brain as he adjusted to the feeling of a dick being slowly pushed into his ass. And if he thought anything else hurt, sweet Christ, this **hurt** , like, really fucking hurt, a lot. And then all of a sudden it didn’t. 

 

Sam found himself moving his hands from where they’d been desperately grabbing onto the sheets so that he could hold onto Alcide’s shoulders, his hips bucking up against the thrusts for more, harder, deeper, and he got everything he wanted. Less time than he wanted had passed before he felt his orgasm building, just from feeling so full and having his dick pressed against the werewolf’s abs. It was obvious, clearly, as Alcide bent down toward him and practically growled into his ear, “It’s all right, Sam, I want you to come, I want to see you.”

 

And that was just it. Sam’s vision blurred around the edges and his orgasm coated his and Alcide’s bodies. The instinctive clenching of his interior muscles caused Alcide to spill into him moments later, but he had no reaction to give as he was pulled swiftly under a post-orgasmic sleep that he’d never experienced so intensely. When he awoke, not long after, he was acutely aware that he was alone in the bed. Honestly, he wasn’t surprised by the feeling, until he felt the dip of the mattress next to him and smelled the now-familiar scent of Alcide slipping back into the bed. Maybe he had just gotten up to piss or get cleaned up, whatever, Sam was going under again and he wasn’t alone this time as Alcide had tuned back the covers and gotten back into bed next to him.

 

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Luckily, Dean didn’t have to answer the question he’d been asked, as he felt Eric press the lube into his hand and turn so he could push himself up onto the edge of the desk, Dean standing between his thighs and in perfect position to take the vampire, much to his surprise. 

 

His emotions must have been telegraphed on his face, because Eric spoke then. “Sometimes I forget what it’s like. Go on, do it. I’m giving myself to you, it doesn’t happen a lot, so don’t take too much time to think about it, yeah?”

 

There had been a couple of times he’d done this with an adventurous woman, but never with a dude. Still, he figured the mechanics couldn’t be much different. He lubed up his right hand, pushing a finger into Eric’s incredibly cold but somehow at the same time hot hole, and stroked Eric’s cock with his left hand. He was trying to be gentle, it was the only experience he had to go on, but Eric corrected him almost immediately.

 

“Vampire, kid, not some kinky girl you took home once when you were a teenager. You’re not going to _break_ me. Just do it. Fuck me.” ( _Sam would never say something so filthy. Shut up. No, you shut up. NO YOU._ )

 

Eric’s words were all the incentive Dean needed to pour more lube onto his fingers and shove three of them inside Eric, rewarded by a deep growl and the feeling of Eric’s body pushing down on him. OK, so like he said, vampire, not gonna break, no point in fucking around. Dean slicked up his cock and pushed inside of Eric, moving him ever so slightly back against the edge of the desk. As he slid himself in all the way, he was shocked to feel sharp teeth against his neck – fangs, he guessed, though he hadn’t seen them. He pulled himself back and got a look. He thought he’d never seen anything so terrifying and so amazingly hot at the same time in his life as he took in the sight of Eric with his lustful eyes and his fangs protruding from his open mouth. Dean moved closer again, moving inside the vampire with hard thrusts that he’d never even thought of trying with any girl, even those girls who told him not to hold back. 

 

He felt the fangs again, and as much effort as it took to make his brain work while he was balls deep inside this gorgeous vampire, he forced himself to speak.

 

“Not where people can see, Eric, please…”

 

Eric was happy to oblige, moving his mouth below Dean’s collarbone and sinking his fangs in, not enough to injure, but enough to hurt.

 

Fuck fuck fuck, was it supposed to feel like that? No wonder all those people upstairs came here just for this. Dean choked on a sob and thrust harder, knowing his orgasm was moments away. Eric knew it too, put his own hand around his dick and pushed against the friction, wanting to share this experience with his new acquaintance. With a strangled cry from Dean and another bite from Eric, both men came almost at the same moment. Dean struggled to catch his breath while Eric seemed to be recovering from being fucked.

 

After Dean got his breath back and Eric composed himself, the two of them moved apart, getting themselves back into their clothes and trying to think of something to say.

 

Of course, Eric was the first one to speak. “I hope you found your foray to Shreveport _educational_ , Dean”, and he handed him back his jacket along with the wooden stakes he’d had hidden underneath it. “You wanna kill me now?”

 

“Nah. Not the fuck-and-kill type. Thanks, though. I gotta get going, but it was good to meet you, Eric.”, he replied as he pulled his jacket back on and stuffed the stakes into his pockets.

 

“If you’re ever in town again…”

 

“Count on it.” Dean leaned in for a kiss, which Eric shockingly returned for just a moment. 

 

“You’ve got places to go, so get there. Good night, Dean.”

 

Dean made his way out of the club and back to the car. By the time he reached his and Sam’s motel, the sun was coming up. Sam was asleep and alone in bed when he opened the door, but the state of the pillows and blankets were a clear indication that he hadn’t been alone in bed the whole night. He took off most of his clothes, left his tshirt on, and slipped into his own bed, in desperate need of some rest.

 

Briefly, he thought he might ask Sam who he’d brought back to the motel with him. He speculated about the cute blonde waitress but if she already had a vampire boyfriend it was unlikely she’d be leaving that bar with his brother. He reconsidered even asking, though, as he weighed the likelihood of Sam asking him why he hadn’t come back until almost morning. 

 

What did it matter anyway? Dean didn’t care about who Sam took to bed, didn’t feel a pang of jealousy at the thought of some chick with her hands all over his brother. He _didn’t_. 

 

Neither of them needed to know specifics. They’d trade stories about information they had obtained, but Dean had no desire to tell his brother that he’d fucked a male vampire, and he certainly didn’t want to know who had been in his Sam's bed while he was gone. Honestly. None of his business.

They were leaving Bon Temps the next day anyway for a hunt in Tennessee, and this was all just a learning experience. Not the kind of learning experience they’d counted on when they’d arrived, sure, but better. Much, much better. 

 


End file.
